


What You Think We Are

by EclipseWing



Series: defende nos in proelio [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Finds Out, Dean Finds Out, Dean is Michael Michael is Dean, Gen, I might add more to this later, Raphael is still confused, Sam is Lucifer Lucifer is Sam, The first and third part are really short, and by later i mean three years on or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseWing/pseuds/EclipseWing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Dean's Michael and Sam's Lucifer and there are some people who need to find out about that. Dean included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bobby

"So you remember Anna, right?"

Bobby lets Sam and Dean in with a smile and holy water laced beers. Dean barely noticed the diluted drink, too uneasy and it's obvious Bobby has noticed from the way he's got his arms cross and eyebrow raised and is staring at them.

Dean has never felt more like a naughty child than he does now under Bobby's gaze, "The chick who turned out to be an angel?" he asks.

"Yeah," Sam says, "She ripped out her grace and was born as a human."

"I remember," Bobby says, not sure what they're probably getting at, "I'm not senile yet."

"Yeah, well… you see she went her whole life as a human, and then she got her grace and she was still the same, just with…"

Bobby's losing track of Sam's rambling explanation. Dean can see it in his eyes, which is his only excuse for blurting out, "Sam and I are angels."

Bobby's gaze slides over to him. He blinks for a moment, "Are you hearing voices or do you remember?"

"We remember," Sam says, "Or rather Dean knew for a while and I just got my memories and grace back. But we're still the same people, Bobby, you have to understand that."

Dean feels a rush of anxiety. It's a weird feeling, and it sits heavily in his stomach. He's still waiting for the rejection, for the angry accusations and shotgun and holy water and--

"Okay."

Dean blinks, "Wait… what?"

"Okay," Bobby says again with a shrug, "Do you have angelic duties to attend to or do you have time for a hunt I thought you might like."

Sam seems to be just as disbelieving as Dean, "You believe us?" he asks, "And… you're okay with this?"

"Well if it's a joke it's not funny," Bobby narrows his eyes.

"It's not a joke, I swear," Sam splutters, "I mean… I'm the Devil, how can you be okay with that? I'm barely okay with that..."

"Sam," Dean hisses, because this was not their plan, "We were going to ease him in gently."

"But I'm the Devil, Dean," Sam turns pleading eyes on him, "I'm evil incarnate. I don't want to be evil incarnate… I barely did anything. So I corrupted a few souls, burned a few cities… I've been in time out for over a millennium, I've learned my lesson…"

Sam's still making puppy-dog eyes. Dean doesn't know what to do, "It's okay," he says, trying to be reassuring but it falls flat, "You're not going to end the world, that's the important thing…" he turns back to Bobby, ready to fly Sam and him out of there if he starts shooting. But Bobby just seems slightly puzzled over everything.

"I don't get it," Bobby frowns, looking first from Sam to Dean and then back.

Sam shifts next to him and Dean tries to think of another way to explain. Sam had wanted to do this gently but Dean's not good at subtle, "I'm Michael," he says, "And Sam's Lucifer."

"Dean," Sam hisses, swatting at him and Dean steps out of reach.

Bobby is still staring.

"I'm not deaf," he says, slowly, "I heard you the first time. But I don't get it. How come Sam's the Devil?"

Dean's mind stutters and then backtracks, "Uh… sorry, come again?"

"I mean, you're the kid who managed to blow up my shed when I left him alone for ten minutes. Sam on the other hand…"

Sam preens. He fucking preens, chest puffing out slightly and wings tilting with smugness. They're still slightly dove-grey with ash instead of the white they should be and Dean eyes them vindictively. He's got some cleaner for his car, he might crack it out just for this occasion.

Dean turns back to Bobby, "So what, Sam's an angel, fine, that makes sense but I can't be?"

Bobby gives him the stink eye, "Oh, I never said that. But you were probably the worst angel up there blaspheming and chasing tail and--"

Dean chokes a little. Sam's laughing the little bastard. Dean hits him with a wing and it's really satisfying to see his too-tall brother flail for balance.

"You're the worst sort of angel I've ever heard of," Bobby finishes, with a shrug.

"Ah," Dean manages to plaster on a wide, shit-eating grin, "But you have heard of me."

His grin falls flat when Bobby just raises one eyebrow, "Point proven," he says, and turns away.

"B-but I'm Michael!" Dean says. He's not whining dammit.

"So does that mean you have a flaming sword?" Bobby shouts back to him, "Good, I've got a demon problem in Nebraska for you to take on, oh Saint Michael the Archangel…"

"Is he mocking me?" Dean's a bit confused, glancing at Sam, "Is he mocking me?"

Sam still looks like he's trying not to laugh. Dean glares at him and strides away from his irritating little brother. He should have left him in time-out. He's going to go find Castiel, at least Cas respects him.


	2. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes Dean twenty-nine years to work out there's a part of him missing.

Looking back Dean's not sure when he actually realised there was something different about him. Maybe it was that time he was four and he sullenly refused to listen to John. Maybe it was when he was five and he was holding Sammy, trying to hunch his shoulders around the baby like there should be an extra muscle, a phantom limb there to move.

Maybe it was when he was twenty-two and watching Sam walk away, and all he could think was 'not again'.

Maybe it was when he was twenty-three and John wasn't answering his phone and Dean curled up with an all too familiar feeling of loss as if John had left him for _years_ and not half a week.

Maybe it was when he was twenty-four and had been hunting solo since Sam had left. There was a demonic creature, not quite a fully formed demon, not quite a hell-hound or shadow monster and the prayer tripped off his tongue like a second language.

 _"Defende nos in prolio,"_ is the only line that he remembers afterwards.

**_Defend us in battle._ **

Maybe it's when he's twenty-five and there are witches and _~~father~~_ how he hates witches and the spell’s already been activated, the sigils burning and without hesitation he grabs the chalk and scrawls out words in a language he doesn't remember learning just in time to watch as the spell fizzles and dies.

Maybe it's when he's twenty-six and even before he sees the stopped clock he already knows something's wrong with Sam.

Maybe it was when he's twenty-seven and he smiles at the Trickster like an old friend and thinks he sees the shadow of ~~wings~~ something behind the Pagan God.

Maybe it was when he is twenty-eight and Sam's convinced there's an angel killing people and Dean knows _knows_ in his bones that it's not an angel and in the window a stain glass figure lights his skin up red yellow _gold_ \--

The only time Dean knows for certain something was different was when he was in hell and something was missing.

His amulet hangs around his neck. He can feel the weight of the metal, the fibres of the cord but--

Something's missing. Something's gone. It's like there's no heartbeat, no life to the piece of jewellery, useless now without…

Without something. He can't name it. Can't put a word to what is missing he just knows that it is. And that somewhere, planes and dimensions away from where he is, Sam's hand is curling over the real amulet and the real piece of him that is missing.

It's easy for Alastair to break that which was never whole to start with.

 

Dean’s head breaks ground and he claws his way out of Hell, out of his grave, out of his coffin, out of the cold earth and too long _too long_ they left him in there( too long) that wasn't meant to happen and there are voices screaming in his ear and for a long long time he just lies there.

The earth is beautiful, he thinks, still slightly dazed and with that revelation he stands and starts walking.

He finds Bobby and he finds Sam and he finds a handprint burnt into his shoulder that hums under his touch.

Sam clears his throat and he turns, gaze resting on where Sam is holding out a familiar amulet.

Dean takes it, looping it over his neck.

It feels like coming home. There's a thrumming under his fingers and suddenly everything feels right.

 _Is it time?_ Someone asks.

 _No_ , he thinks, absentmindedly, _not yet, not now, not yet…_

"Angels," Bobby says while Dean's still shaken and Sam's still wide-eyed with wonder at the thought. He doesn't know, Dean thinks, he has no clue… and the thoughts are strange and foreign in his head.

Castiel is an angel. Castiel is an angel who pulled him out of Hell and now looks at him like he expects Dean to lead him on a righteous march with all of God's armies. Castiel is an angel and angels are real and--

"Of course they're real," Sam says as if he never doubted, "There is twice as much lore on angels than anything else we’ve hunted."

Dean keeps silent, because the angels are here for Apocalypse and Lucifer and visions of Hell still flash beneath his closed eyelids and he's so unclean, so tainted and there are voices whispering in the back of his mind and Sam's drinking demon blood and and and--

Bit by bit he's losing it.

 

Sam notices. It takes a while. Longer than it should and that should hurt but it doesn't because Sam's been so driven, so focussed lately and he's scary when he gets like **_this_** like killing Lilith is _all_ he can see now. The end of his mission **_his path_** and Sam accuses _Dean_ of being a mindless soldier but can't he see he's just the same in the end?

He's not even thinking about what happens _after_ Lilith dies.

Some part of Dean thinks that maybe he should be, that _maybe **that's** the **point** …_

Castiel watches him make a decision to save a town and Dean can't help but feel like the angel is waiting for something.

Waiting for someone.

~~Waiting for him.~~

"We're not hammers," Castiel tells him when it's all over, "We're not just tools. I doubt. My faith wavers but I have something to believe in."

"Who?" Dean scoffs, "God?"

Castiel's blue gaze settles on him, "You," he says, as if the answer should be clear and obvious but…

It's not. It makes no sense, but somehow...

"You follow my orders," Dean says, cautiously, testing the waters.

Castiel's eyes get even bluer, "I will always follow your orders," he says, and it sounds like a promise.

Dean meets his gaze, feeling his back straighten and yes, this is right, this is how it works but also-- "Don't be afraid to question orders, Castiel," he says, "I'm not always right."

Cas blinks at him, slow and wide, "No," he says eventually, "But I trust you."

Dean wants to reply, to say that he's beginning to trust the angel too but there is the flapping of wings and then Castiel is gone.

 

They find a girl who hears voices.

They find a girl who hears **_angels_**.

In the back of his mind whispers never stop.

In the back of his mind the **_choirs_** never stop.

Dean's listening to the **_angels_**.

Dean, a hell-torn, broken soul can hear the angels speaking, hear them whispering and behind Alistair's smirking face he sees shadows and a flicker of his true form.

Anna banishes Cas and Uriel and it fucking _stings_ , like a slap around the head. There is a tree that once held grace and it fucking _sings_ in Dean's ears.

Anna's an angel, he thinks, afterwards, when it's all over and Ruby has slipped back into the shadows and Sam's back to sneaking behind Dean's back and the angels are gone, the demons are gone and Anna is gone and...

Anna's an angel.

Dean feels sick. He barely makes it to the sink than he's retching choking coughing up bile and nothing nothing nothing…

His breathing is erratic. Heart thumping in his chest trying to claw free and around his neck...

Around his neck warm light beats. He wants to rip it out, tear away the strange presence. He leans over the sink, dry-retching…

It's unfamiliar, like a virus his body is trying to reject and yet at the same time it's so so right and--

He rips his amulet off, tossing it across the bathroom. He feels better, stomach no longer rolling and head no longer spinning but now…

Now he just feels sad. At loss, like a ship unanchored drifting in the ocean.

Before he even realises he's doing it, he's moving to where he had thrown his amulet. It has fallen down innocuously behind the cistern, and he claws for it, desperate suddenly to have it back.

His fingers close on it and he pulls it back, holds it close "I'm sorry _I'm sorry_ ," he doesn't even realise he's saying it. His fingers clench tighter.

It's his. He knows that much. There's no doubt about it, whatever it is, it's **_his_**.

Anna's an angel.

And in between his fingers, flickering a faint bronze with a light of its own is something glowing and pulsing and **_his_** and…

Anna's an angel.

Dean feels sick.

He puts the amulet back in its place around his neck and tries to ignore the weird fluttering pulsing beneath his ribs.

 

The angels have Alastair.

The angels have Alastair and they're asking him to torture the demon for them and Dean wants to laugh, wants to tilt his head and question Uriel, say 'I thought Heaven had its own set of torturers' and turn his back on them.

But those words are _not his own_ , and Castiel's still looking at him like he expects him to grow wings at any moment.

Dean's not expecting to grow literal wings. In that regards he doesn't. But something goes wrong, the devil's trap is under a leaky pipe, it runs, it breaks and Alistair is out with his hand around Dean's throat and **no** , Dean is **not** going to die like _this_.

He's barely aware that his amulet is burning. But it _is_ and the white-eyed demon _flinches_ back. He looks genuinely scared.

 _Good_ , Dean thinks, thoughts settling into his head. **_Good_**.

He'll show Alistair the wrath of God.

 

Sam arrives to find Dean slumped tiredly on the floor, the empty burned out shell of a demon nearby and Castiel standing over him. "Dean!" he says, rushing towards his brother. Castiel steps aside and Dean looks up weakly.

He's exhausted. His amulet is warm against his chest and Dean's tired and still slightly bruised but he hasn't felt this good in ages.

He burnt out the demon. He killed Alistair with barely a thought, a flash of grace and power and the demon burnt.

"What happened?" Sam demands, "Dean, are you okay?"

"He is fine," Castiel says, "Alistair got loose. I dealt with the problem."

Dean wonders why Castiel is covering for him, but he's too tired to find out now. All he can do is nod weakly and close his eyes.

He's out of practise.

 

"You know," Castiel says later when Sam's dragged him back to the nearest motel and stuffed Dean into bed. Dean's pretending to sleep, and it got rid of Sam but it doesn't work on the angel.

He cranks open one eye and Castiel's standing closer than he expected making him flinch back a little. His throat bobs and suddenly he doesn't know what to say. When he speaks his throat is rough and hoarse, "Are you going to kill me?" he asks, waiting for the fatal blow, "You tried to kill Anna…"

"Dean," Castiel's head is tilting, eyes narrowing in sorrow and pity that Dean doesn't want to see there. He closes his eyes as the angel reaches forwards and at least it will be quick, "Brother," Castiel says, fingers resting gently on Dean's shoulder. The handprint tingles beneath Dean's thin t-shirt and his breathing eases slightly. Dean opens his eyes to see Castiel staring at him, still waiting for him to see something he hasn't yet, "I'm not going to kill you," Castiel says.

"But if I…" Dean stops, because there's him and there's **_him_** and the two pieces are still jarring in his head. He tries to remember, and all he gets is flashes, burning wings and silver swords and a deep sense of clarity.

This was the way it was supposed to be.

He remembers _falling_ and oh, _no wonder he's so scared of flying_ , if only because of this, of what comes after, of the falling because he doesn't have wings.

They're wrapped up safely around his neck and suddenly he has no doubt that would any angel _actually_ threaten him he could claim it back, spread out bronzed wings and deal with them without probably even breaking into a sweat.

"You told me once," Castiel says, evenly, "That there was a plan. Do you still believe in it?"

Dean doesn't even know what it is.

Except that's a _lie_ , because he knows where they're heading, what Sam is hurtling towards without stopping and it's kill Lilith, kill Alastair, stop the Apocalypse but **_that's_** not the endgame.

Killing Lilith leads to only one road.

"Yes," he says, two parts of him jarring and mixing slightly. Like mixing colours they begin to blend, to merge, to make something new…

It terrifies Dean of what he's going to become.

"Then I follow you, Dean," Castiel says, "To death."

That kind of loyalty should scare him, should terrify him he doesn't want that but…

But it's right, it's **meant to be** and a few more gears in his head click into place.

Everything is going according to plan.

 

So Dean's an angel.

He thinks he knows which angel even, especially considering how Castiel looks at him sometimes like Dean's his CO.

Is Dean actually his CO? He needs to check.

Sam's prissy as ever. Dean drags them to a couple of ghost hunts just to try and keep Sam away from Ruby. Not that it works, but the hunts are fun.

Sort of fun.

There's a haunted house (isn't there always) and Dean's looking around for the ghost. Sam's meant to be the other side of the house which is why when there's a creak Dean spins around. The lights above him flicker violently, "Dude," Dean hisses, trying to calm his racing heart, "Don't sneak up on me!"

The light is still flickering. Dean frowns at, heart rate slowing until eventually the light stops flickering.

This is really beginning to be a problem.

He tosses Sam the shotgun and Sam cocks it, and then pauses, "Did you refill the salt rounds?"

"No, I thought it was your turn."

"No, it was your turn. It was your turn last time too but I did for you."

"So that makes it still technically your job," Dean's being pedantic now.

"No--" Sam sighs, deflating. He lets out a slow breath and when he sees his air vanishing into the warmth he turns to his brother, "Stay here, I'm going to get some more from the car."

"Where else am I going to go, Sammy?" Dean drawls as his brother backs out to the front door behind them. The door swings shut and Dean turns back to the house. His EMF metre whines almost mournfully and he shuts it off. He doesn't need it to know there are ghosts around. Now if he could just find the sucker…

He's expecting the first ghost that appears. He gets it with the lead crowbar in his hand.

He's not expecting the second ghost.

It appears behind him and even as he turns to deal with it. It flings out a hand and sends him flying backwards through a dry wall that already had a few small holes in it. Now it has one big Dean-shaped hole. He coughs in the dusty cloud surrounding him, trying to scramble to his feet because there was only meant to be one ghost and of course this job wasn't going to be easy…

Something grabs him by the collar, the man dressed in a smart suit yanking him up and tossing him back through the hole he had just come through. A wave of cold air passes over him and Dean realises the second ghost literally threw him through the other. Like a stilted camera reel the pair turn, skipping movements and jumping forwards. A man and his wife and oh, they never found the wife's body, did they--

So it looks like the guy didn't kill his wife after all, not the way the pair seem to be in cahoots, stalking, shimmering forwards. Dean edges backwards but he's dropped the crowbar, Sam has the shotgun, Dean has a steel knife and a gun that fires normal bullets and--

And a burning amulet around his neck.

It's hot and flaring with his grace leaking out, escaping and Dean feels it even though it's not physically in his body. It spreads out, white and gleaming, tinting bronze as it twists into wings behind him. The wife shimmers into view leaning over him and with a snarl Dean raises his hand, letting the white flare up and--

The ghost burns. So does everything around it.

So he might be a bit out of practise. Dean doesn't want to hang around. He scrambles up and legs it for the front door, wings folding and sliding back into the ether.

The door slams behind him and he makes it two steps before the whole house shudders weakly. It's old, and it doesn't take long before cindering embers send the mainframe caving inwards in a cloud of dust.

There are hurried footsteps that skid to a stop. Sam stands there holding the shotgun, and he's frozen staring at the burning building behind Dean.

"Dean…" Sam stops.

Sam stares.

Dean clears his throat.

Sam stares some more, "I was gone a minute," he says, too surprised to even put inflection into his words, "A _minute_ ," he repeats.

"I know," Dean says, "You missed all the excitement."

"What did you _do_?"

Dean bristles, "What makes you think I did something? Why is when something goes wrong it's always my fault?"

Behind him with a creak part of the house collapses into the basement. Dean tries not to wince.

"Dean, the house is in smithereens."

"It exploded."

"Houses don't just blow up!" Sam splutters, gaze transfixed to the burning building behind him.

"The ghost must have hit a gas main or something."

"A gas main," Sam deadpans, turning to the house. The old, ancient crumbling house that probably didn't even have a running gas supply, "Sure, gas main..."

To this day Sam's still not quite sure how the whole house ended up on fire and crumbling into ash.

Dean intends to keep it that way.

 

They find Lilith near the prophet and Castiel's there and Sam's trying to go after Lilith but--

It's too soon, it's **_too soon,_** if Lilith dies now then his brother will _never_ be free--

The meaning of that thought sinks in and Dean feels sick. Sick with worry and sick at the idea and the knowledge of whose side he's actually on and--

"The prophet is guarded by an archangel," Castiel tells him, voice laced with hints and purpose and Lilith has to die at the right time and--

Raphael appears with the power of a lightning storm. Lilith runs. Chuck sighs in relief, Castiel skulks in the shadows and Sam--

Sam's **_desperate_**. Sam's yearning and he's _so close_ , Dean thinks, Sam's so close to being whole again, to being himself. He's been human, been born again and again and _again_ and now finally _he's nearly there_ to being fixed.

To being redeemed.

Dean's not two different colour paints, he realises, he's two shades of the same colour, and all mixing them together has is to make the colour more brilliant than ever before.

And Sam…

Sam is the same.

They were born to a higher purpose, after all.

When the cage finally cracks open Michael closes his eyes and smiles as Lucifer's power finally rushes out and Sam's eyes open. Then he's spreading his wings and letting Lucifer fly them up _up_ and _out_ of that church.

This time he's no longer afraid of flying.


	3. Raphael

Sam and Dean are debating over hunts when Raphael finds them.

The term 'debating' is up for question.

It starts with Dean finding a Trickster gone rogue and Sam point blank refusing. Or maybe it starts with Sam ignoring his brother's pleas while he counts out cash for buying some new ammunition.

Dean notices.

"Hey, isn't that my money?"

"Our money," Sam corrects.

"My money," Dean emphases.

"Dude, you won it hustling pool."

"I _earned_ it hustling pool," Dean says, reaching for it, "Give it back. Go hustle your own money."

"No," Sam says, "And we should probably find a better income."

"You're deciding that now?" Dean's jaw drops in disbelief, "After years of credit card fraud, pool hustling and stealing now you decide we should change our ways?" He pauses for half a beat, "Are you feeling okay?"

"I…" Sam's gaze flies about wildly, "It's wrong, okay, and I'm…" he mumbles something under his breath.

"I didn't catch them."

"I'm trying to redeem myself," Sam mutters, not meeting his brother's gaze.

That's probably too much emotion for Dean or something because he scoffs, "You don't need to redeem yourself, Sammy, and certainly not to me. Now can I have my money back…?"

"What? No, we need fresh bullets, silver doesn't grow on trees y'know…"

"Neither does my money…" Dean reaches for it and Sam snatches the notes up, leaning away from Dean. Dean glares at him for a moment, then reaches out for it. Sam's on his feet in an instant, holding it above his head.

"Aha," Sam says, sly smile on his face, "Can't reach it--"

Dean tackles him around the waist.

Raphael arrives to a scuffle of limbs on the bed, and muffled grunts of "Give me my money back!" and the petulant "No's" in reply.

Raphael blinks, not entirely sure what's going on. There's a rustle of feathers and Castiel appears. The other angel barely appears to notice the squabbling on the bed, "Did you need something?" the little Seraph sounds almost protective, and Raphael is debating doing all business involving Michael or Lucifer through him. At least _he_ _makes sense_.

"I wanted to speak to Michael…" Raphael says slowly, eyeing up the pair, "This… this is not how I pictured the Apocalypse going down."

There is a thud as Sam and Dean finally tip too near the edge of the bed.

Castiel blinks, as if he no idea what to say.

"Get your fat bitch ass off me…"

"It's muscle, Dean, not that you'd know…"

Castiel clears his throat, "I think you might want to come back another time," he suggests eventually, "When they're not…" he eyes the pair. There is another thud as a lamp is accidentally sacrificed to the cause, and a muffled curse from Sam as it hits him in the head.

"Yeah," Raphael says, and he's definitely considering going through Castiel from now on, "I'll come back later."

World destroying Apocalypse indeed.


End file.
